


Not a Birthday to forget

by asterphoenix247



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Party, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterphoenix247/pseuds/asterphoenix247
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur finds himself in a depressed state as he reflects back on the events of the revolution. He discovers Alfred invited him to his birthday and debates if he should go and celebrate with his old colony. one shot. Hints of FrUK</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Birthday to forget

Arthur really didn't understand why Alfred went out of his way to make him an invitation. It was the same thing every year. Alfred would go out of his way to make a spectacular birthday card for England and Arthur never why he always sent him one every year. Whenever Alfred sent him the invitation all he would do was throw it away and not go. It was too painful for him to go to the celebration, July 4th - the day Alfred declared his independence on him. Even though the event happened years ago, he couldn't forget how much pain he had felt that day. Ever since, on July 4th, Arthur would find himself sitting at a bar drinking himself wasted and this year was no different

The invitation was on the bar table in front of him. Yet for some odd reason he savored this years invite more then the others since it looked like Alfred had put time on this one than the others.

Arthur tilted his head as he rested it against the palm of his hand. He only had one drink and was already feeling tipsy. There was no doubt that he couldn't hold his liquor. He closed his eyes taking in the scent of the bar. The aroma of alcohol over flew the place as the blonde fiddled around with the beer bottle in his hands. He could feel the way the beer shifted as he held the bottle in different positions.

"Your still here Angleterre?" The shocked voice caused Arthur to slide his green eyes open. Francis stood over the Englishman shaking his blonde locks in disapproval. "I would have thought that you would have left by now." With out an invitation, the Frenchman sat next to him.

Glaring, Arthur placed the beer bottle on the table and faced the other direction, not wanting to be bothered by the intruder. "Go away frog, I'm not in the mood." He reported, accent rumbled dryly from his mouth. "Don't you have anyone else to annoy?"

"You think I'm annoying, Angleterre?" Francis spoke, still with his heavy French accent as he scooted his body toward Arthur's. He purposely allowed his body to brush up against the other blondes to get a reaction. Arthur gave the Frenchman the rejoinder he was hoping for; another dirty look from his sharp, sea-green eyes.

The Frenchman had found the reaction absolutely adorable. The Frenchman's matures facial features made space for a smirk. His hand went up to his flaxen locks as he turned a single strand into a curl. Arthur had gone back to his beer and hadn't looked back.

Francis didn't understand at first. It wasn't normal for England to be depressed at a bar. It was usually during the hangover when he started to act that way.

The two-sat in silence, Arthur sipping on his beer while Francis drank on his wine. The more the silence stayed the more worried Francis became. He didn't get the reason for Arthur's unconventional manner.

"Angleterre." Francis placed his schooner on the table. He was ready to speak his mind, or at least do something to cheer up his companion but he brusquely stopped. His hand had brushed over something that shouldn't have been there- something like paper. The Frenchman looked down at the table. The invitation that Alfred made especially for Arthur was sitting untouched and unopened. "Its his birthday today isn't it?"

He knew he didn't have to specify whose birthday it was. He was aware that Arthur too knew who he was talking about.

England snorted lightly. "Yeah, it is." It was the same thing every year, he should have known. The taller blonde fingered the perimeter of the paper, tenderly flipping over the card with the hand drawn picture Alfred had scribbled of him and Arthur.

His art skills hadn't gotten better, but it was all the time and effort Alfred had put in that made it thoughtful.

"Are you planning on going?" Francis didn't bother to look over at his friend. His azure eyes were focused on the brittle paper in front of him. Everything about the invitation was cute. The pictures were nice and meticulous and the handwriting was pleasant and legible, unlike Alfred's typical penmanship.

The silence from before flooded the vicinity. Francis was aware Arthur didn't want to say anything. "It really seems like Alfred wants you to show up."

Unexpectedly the Englishman coughed up a rugged laugh, that type of laugh he used to use back in his pirate days. Francis's words had no effect on the Brit. He was well aware what it looked liked like. He wanted him to come to the party, but what was the point? He never went before. Why would this yearbe any different then years previous?

"Why would it matter if I go?" Arthur's olive eyes met the chilly navy ones of Francis as the two shared a gaze. Francis was apprehensive for his friends well being. It was clear that Arthur was stressed. After a moment of glancing at one another's the Englishman groaned. He placed his head against the bar table, pounding it till it was sore "I don't understand why he sends me this invitations every year; I never go." His voice was subdued from the table, but his head remained quivering.

What he didn't understand was Alfred's logic. Why did that wanker have to be that much of an idiot?

Francis didn't seem to understand it either. However he was more confused about Arthur. He didn't understand why Arthur had to make such an excuse for himself.

"Et?"

"What do you mean 'et'?" Arthur's head rose up like lighting, his face filled with anger. How could Francis say that, when he was under such fragile circumstances? "That means I'm not bloody going."

"Ces mots si forts"(such strong words) Francis teased his old friend lightly, but saw that even his wit wasn't going to boost this mans mood up.

Arthur was acting more bitter than Romano. He couldn't understand why Arthur wasn't able to tell that there had to be a reason for Alfred to be inviting him to his birthdays year after year. The azure-eyed man rested his elbow on the wood table in front of him, right beside his wineglass. Resting his chin against the palm of his hand and allowed his voice to purr out of his mouth "He invites you every year, that obviously means he wants you to come."

The shorter of the two rolled his eyes in abhorrence. "That doesn't mean I want to come." The roar of Arthur's voice silenced the Frenchman. He watched as his ally went and took a quick thrust with his alcohol, spilling the radiant colored liquor as it dripped from his mouth and downward towards his collar.

Francis seemed to understand Arthur's anger toward the former colony, and why he was acting so bitter. He had obviously loved that boy like a brother and to loose him must have been the worst thing that could have happened to him

"Are you still mad about that dumb revolution?" Francis held in the usual sassy tone in his voice, knowing how delicate the fair-haired man was of the issue. Arthur never responded. He only wiped the liquid that was on his face with the back of his hand. "Angleterre, you really need to forget about that."

"Can't you see that I'm trying to forget, you git!" It saddened Francis to see his friend trying to disregard his problems; andactions that occurred in the past, with nothing but the help of alcohol. If he were simply drinking for the fun of it he wouldn't have minded. But thiswas too much for the Frenchman to handle.

"You know that stuff isn't going to make you forget, tu crétin. ( you idiot)" The short blonde hair that belonged to Arthur sheltered his emerald eyes as he listened to the Frenchman converse. His eyes were staring downward at the card as if he were under a spell. Francis placed his hands upon friends shoulder and rubbedgently, "Its only holding in your problems for later."

Arthur was aware of Francis's point. The alcohol was only a momentarily way of him forgetting about the past, but he didn't know another way. He didn't understand what else he could do. All he knew was that he was tired of hearing the Frenchman talk about problems. The more Francis kept on bugging him about it, the more he wanted to break down and sob.

It wasn't fair. Why did Alfred have to leave him? Thinking about the 4th made Arthur want to weep the way he did when he finally let Alfred go. It was hard on him, all he wanted was to go back to those days when Alfred was just a little boy-back when he used to read the boy to sleep and play toy soldiers with him.

He knew he couldn't go back. All the fighting they had gone through, all the violence, all the tears he had to shed;if he had just shot him, that one opportunity he had, then maybe Alfred would have still been his colony. He really wanted to believe that if he had done that, than everything would go back to normal. He knew he would have never been able to shoot that gun, at least not at Alfred. He was his little brother.

The events in 1783 were cruel. He remembered the way the two of them had looked at one another, that murky rainy day. On both sides, the troops were weakened and depleted in number. They were both in terrible situations, but the determination in Alfred eyes that day was like an arrow shooting through his heart. He wanted to be sovereign more then he wanted to be with him.

Arthur hung his head at the painful and wet memories. He didn't want to remember any more of it. That's why he came here. "Will you just shut up please?" Arthur felt Francis stop rubbing his bulky hand over his triceps. The younger man didn't look, but only felt the touch of affectionate, caring arms covering him. For a moment he flinched from the touch, but relaxed as the Frenchman rested his cheek on his shoulder, his mouth near his ear.

"I would go. If Matthew ever did that for me, I would feel so happy." The warm trace of Francis's breath brought a chill down Arthur's spine. Arthur knew how much of a younger brother Matthew was to Francis and understood what he was saying. The Frenchman began to play with the small hairs on the back of Arthur's head as he spoke the B word. The green eyed man tensed at the word brother, but he shook it off as though it didn't apply to him.

"I'm not his brother anymore, he even told me that. He wanted his independence more than he wanted to be with me." Arthur balled his hand into a fist; trying not to picture the moment Alfred spoke those horrid words to him.

Giving up a laugh, the Frenchman shifted his weight off of Arthur "I would have wanted independence too if I were him." Arthur's head snapped sharply as he gave the senior an astringent look. That was the last thing he needed to hear, especially from him. The Frenchman only chuckled and fingered the blonde locks once more. He hadn't paid much attention to the looks he was receiving, but it wasn't as though he cared. "I'm just saying. You used to be way too controlling Angleterre."Arthur knew it was 'kind of' true. He might have been a little bossy in the past when it came to his colonies, but it wasn't like any of the other nations hadn't done it either; many of Antonio's and Francis's former colonies left to become their own nations. "Alfred's not mad at you; he's inviting you to his birthday after all."

Arthur sat at that bar stool for a moment. Francis did have a point. Alfred wasn't acting as though he didn't want to be around him; in fact it was more like he wanted Arthur around even more then before. There was something that seemed to have clicked in Arthur's head at that moment. Francis was right. Sowhat if he hadn't gone to Alfred's birthday for years, that wasn't an excuse for him to not go, especially if Alfred wanted him to be there.

Arthur grabbed some money from his wallet and slammed it to the counter. The crisp clean bills lied nicely along the wood. Francis knew the right moment to move his head off of Arthur. The Englishman quickly stood off of his bar stool and placed his black shoes against the floor.

"I'm leaving." The announcement wasn't a surprise for Francis; he had already known that was Arthur's plan and felt quite accomplished that he could enlighten Frenchman smirked and without looking away from his friend held the invitation. The crayon wax on the paper hadn't yet smudged. Arthur noticed the self satisfied grin on his allies face. He didn't want him to know that he really helped him out, but he didn't want to leave the card behind. "And I'm not going to see Alfred!"

The Frenchman laughed at the lie. "Alright." He rolled his eyes slightly before smiling at his friend. "Tour ira bien en Angleterre. Ne vous inquietez pas." (Everything will be fine England. Don't worry.) The Englishman didn't understand the foreign language. Arthur just looked at the man for a moment, confused expression on his face.

Francis simply smiled back giving the blonde a wave. "Bye-bye"

After that point Arthur didn't bother himself with the Frenchman's odd ways. He left the pub, that he had spent his whole day in and did something good for a change. He didn't want to go to Alfred's party empty handed but he wasn't sure what to give him as a gift. The only option Arthur came up with was a bouquet of flowers.

It took about an hour for Arthur to get sober up, dressed, and get the flowers before he had proceeded to Alfred's home. Once the Englishman had gotten there, he felt nervous. It was odd for him to be right out side of Alfred's residence like this for his birthday, but in a way it warmed his spirit. It had been so long since he had celebrated Alfred's birthday he couldn't quite remember the last time they had done something like that.

As soon as Arthur found up the courage to introduce himself in, he knocked on the door. He was certain that his knock wasn't noisy enough but he was too jittery to try again. He proceeded to wait outside of the door, uneasily gripping the flowers in front of him. Arthur wanted to run away. Already he was regretting the decision he made to see Alfred. Right when he was about to turn around to leave, the door opened slightly.

"Arthur, you came?" the voice that spoke out was one of confusion. Alfred stood at the frame of his door, shocked to find the man at his door. He knew that he had invited him to come today but he never thought he would try and show up. It wasn't like he tried any other year.

When Arthur heard his name leave Alfred's lips, as if his whole body froze. He didn't know what to do, or say. He didn't understand why it looked as though Alfred was shocked to see him. Nothing made sense to him, only the fact that he was there in front of him.

Arthur shifted the weight between his legs and glanced nervously at the dirty blonde that was towering over him. Oh how he hated the fact that his little Al had grown taller then him. The Englishman managed to compel a smile on his face as he handed the freshly cut flowers to the birthday boy.

Alfred didn't even seem to know what to do, he took the flowers out of the older mans hands glancing at the pedals. Alfred was shocked that Arthur ever bother to show up and he even brought him something.

"Am I late?" Arthur's voice nervous tone of voice caused Alfred to glance back at the shorter nation.

Arthur noticed how he shook his head in an instant, not bothering to check the time or anything. "N-no, you're on time." Alfred's reaction didn't really bother him that much; it was after all Alfred being himself.

The lighter blonde faintly smiled and stepped toward the door peering inside of the house. The placed was quieter then he expected it to be. Arthur mostly imagined that there would be tons of people there, even his imaginary alien Tony, but there was nothing and didn't look like there was supposed to be anyone coming anyway.

Arthur shifted the position on his head, his face never leaving the direction of the open house, but eyes focusing on the blue ones that belonged to Alfred. Arthur didn't think he didn't wanted to come up with a reason for what was going on, he wanted to hear it straight out from him.

"Where's everyone else." It was unconventional for Arthur to be calm, especially with all the crazy idea Alfred comes up with. No amount of word could express how confused he was at that moment.

Alfred took a side step toward the shorter blonde; licking his pale lips anxiously. He wasn't sure how he was going to explain the situation to Arthur.

"You're the only one I've been inviting." Alfred couldn't even look at Arthur was he spoke those outrageous words. He didn't want Arthur to insult him for his decision, but it looked like he had gotten the opposite reaction. Arthur looked back at Alfred with a saddened expression on his face. The feeling of hurt and loneliness was burning through Arthur body. He wanted to cry, for Alfred's sake. He hated him self with passion for doing something cruel like that to his brother.

It was the last thing Arthur wanted Alfred to go through. The hurt and loneliness of wanting someone and only getting their rejection.

It took a few moments for Arthur to process the words. After all those years of sending invitation after invitation he finally understood why he kept on sending them. All Alfred wanted to do was be with him, that's why he was the only he ever invited, but after knowing that, it only seemed to break his injured heart even more. The longer Arthur tried to hold in his sorrow the simpler it was for him to break down crying in the middle of the hall.

He had rejected Alfred's invitation and never told him about it. That meant Alfred stayed home everyday on his birthday waiting for him to come to celebrate his birthday. He wanted to tell Alfred how much on an idiot he was, but he managed to hold it back. He felt so sickened of himself that he would so something like this to someone he cared deeply for, someone he loved.

Arthur eventually fell to the floor in tears. It was 1783 all over again. For a second time he was on the floor crying his eyes out because of something he had done, but there was something different from this time around. Alfred didn't just stand there, the much taller nation, got down on his knees and hugged his brother.

"I-I'm sorry Alfred." Arthur's words were quieted out by his crying; but Alfred had a good idea on what he was saying and only hugged him tighter. It was the 4th of July, a day of celebrating not one of crying, but Alfred felt happy for him and that made everything better.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi ya'll, so I'm aware that there are lots of 4th of July fic out there, but I didn't want mine to be like all the others. I really tryed my best to keep everyone in character and not make this stuff sounding so cliche. i wrote this one-shot during the summer before the 4th of July and it look me forever to get someone to edit this, so feedback would be helpful. Please and thank you


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